First Kiss
by jawnandsharklock
Summary: Basically what the title says. Second place winner of the fyeahjohnlockfanfic contest.


Hi!

I wrote this for **First Kiss Contest** by **f****yeahjohnlockfanfic **on tumblr.

Make sure to check out the beautiful cover, that **devinleighbee** made for my story. You can see the link for it on my profile.

Hope you enjoy :)

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><p>Look into the mirror.<p>

Do you see your mouth? Good. Go two inches to the right from the right corner of your mouth. Then two and a half inches up. Stop. I said two and a half inches, not five. There you go. Right there.

That's where this story begins.

Or maybe that's where it ends.

Or maybe it's all the same.

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><p>I want to tell you the story of a first kiss.<p>

First kisses are special, right?

A thousand times portrayed in films and books, the first kiss always resembles an important step in a relationship. It's bone-melting, breath-taking, soft, and tender and there is an orchestra in the background, playing just the perfect tune.

First kisses in real life, aren't that special. How was your first kiss? Did it feel awkward? Did you not know where to put your hands? Did you forget to breathe? Were the lips you kissed or were kissed by, too dry, too hot, too cold, too anything?

If yes then congratulations. Your first kiss was probably not much different from the kiss I want to tell you about.

But first things first.

What do we need for a first kiss?

Anyone?

Yes, you?

That's right. We need two people. But what is even more important, you need two people who like each other very much.

Look what we have here.

The tall one with the cheekbones is named Sherlock. And that's John. Yes, he does remind me a bit of a hedgehog, too. Not sure why.

Sherlock and John live together in a flat. They solve crimes together, John blogs about it and Sherlock forgets his pants, when he is to visit Buckingham Palace.

No no, you are completely right, not very grown-up these two.

Sherlock is a bit of a sociopath. Never really had any friends, gets off on murder cases, he dislikes people in general and is always the smartest one in the room. He likes to bring body parts home and store them in the fridge. Sometimes when he gets bored he shoots the wall. And he plays the violin at three in the morning.

Doesn't sound like a bloke you'd fancy moving in with, right?

John is an ex-army doctor. Before he moved in with Sherlock he had a psychosomatic limp and he used to see a therapist. He loves the danger, almost gets off on it. He's full of rage and has rows with machines and when you go on a date with him you might end up battling Chinese gangsters.

Not much of a perfect guy either, right?

I like to think that that's exactly why they found each other. Call it fate or destiny or coincidence. Maybe luck.

Even if they don't want to admit it, they desperately need each other. Sherlock needs John to ground him, to remind him that he's human and John needs Sherlock to make him feel alive, to put him in danger and then save him. It's easy as that.

When John first moved- what? Oh no, they're not together _yet_. They may look like it, but no. Not yet.

Anyway, I was telling a story. Don't interrupt me. When John first moved in, he knew exactly that this was the place he was going to spend at least the next few weeks at. If he hadn't gone mental by then yet that is. He knew that because this was exactly what he needed. Chaos, madness, brilliance. Even though he hated the violin at three in the morning and the body parts in the fridge, _this was it_.

Sherlock didn't know that John was exactly what he needed. Not until a few weeks after John had moved in and Sherlock realised that John had stayed. Throughout all the arguments, despite his complaints about Sherlock's flaws, he had _stayed_. He occasionally dumped his girlfriends for him, he saved his life every once in a while and he bought the milk.

When our story begins, John and Sherlock return from a case, giggling childishly and panting heavy. They have just caught another serial killer and John thinks that if they go on like this, there might not be any criminals left sometime soon and all they will have left to do is sit in their living room and shoot holes in the wall. He slumps in the couch and stretches his legs. "Oh dear God", he mutters. "That was just ridiculous."

Sherlock offers him a smile and sits beside him, his knee brushing against John's. They're quiet for a few minutes and John leans his head back, closing his eyes. A sudden tiredness washes over him and an odd feeling of happiness. It spreads out in his chest down to his toes and it makes him feel a bit dizzy. They solved yet another case and they are still alive. John smiles and lets out a sigh.

They didn't turn the lights on. So they just sit in the dark and breathe.

In and out. In. And out.

"I'm very glad that you're here", Sherlock suddenly says into the silence. His voice is low and lazy and John doesn't need to look to know that his eyes are closed too. "Yeah…" he replies and finds Sherlock's hand to lightly squeeze it. "Me too."

There are some things in life that cannot be explained. Like your mum is the best mum in the world. Like your choice of your favourite sports club. Like a preference for jam or fear of mermaids.

Like _this._

John knows that he will stay. Sherlock knows that John is what he needs.

"We should go to bed" Sherlock hums and only shifts closer to John.

"Mhh" John sighs and leans against Sherlock. "We really should."

And that's when it happens. It happens in a matter of seconds, really. John cracks open his eyes and looks over to Sherlock. Sherlock looks back and then he leans forward.

Two inches to the right from the right corner of his mouth and two and a half inches up, John receives his first kiss from Sherlock. Lips press against skin and it's a bit awkward and a bit surprising and a bit not perfect, because Sherlock's lips are a bit too dry and John's skin itches.

"Oh", John says when the lips have already left his cheek again. "Oh", says Sherlock and then they are silent again.

And somehow John finds his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock laces their fingers together and for a while the only sound that fills the air is the sound of their breaths.

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><p>It wasn't perfect, but it was their first kiss.<p>

It's where this story ends.

It's where another, much greater, deeper and thrilling story begins.


End file.
